The Prince of Hell
by Queen Of The Lab01
Summary: AU. Where Castiel is the prince of hell, heir to the iron throne of the devil and angel of darkness. The Son of Crowley, with the blessing of lucifer. Born of the Angel Naomi. Everything is differnt now, so much has changed. Please review.


Dean slid into the front seat of the impala, he held a cardboard cup carrier in tote, which held two black coffees for Sam and him. He set the cups down, as he tugged his seat belt a crossed his chest, and listened to the definite click of the clasp. He lifted one of the paper cups to his lips, and took a swig of the bitter scalding liquid.

"Ahh," he sighed contently, finally having some caffeine to start the morning.

He set the cup back down, and pushed one of his cassettes into the stereo of the Impala. _La Grange _by ZZ Top came blasting for the speakers, as he stuck the keys into the ignition, and the smooth purr of the V8 327 4 barrel engine roared to life.

Next to him, Sam settled in his seat, with a large crinkled map in his hands and a confused look strewn onto his face.

They were in the East of Connecticut in a small town with a big leviathan outbreak. A puddle of black goo was permanently stained on to Sam's left pant leg from an encounter the night before. They had taken care of the case with relative ease, since Dick was ganked the leviathan seemed more apathetic that they used to be, and not nearly as powerful, which was good for Sam and him, it made their jobs that much easier.

But after they finished the job, Dean got word of a so called: Magic Man, in Pontiac Illinois who went by the name of Jimmy Novak. Sam had done some research over night, and found that this guy was nothing special: a loving husband and father from suburbia, who sold add space for daytime radio, but he also seemed to have the ability to grant wishes or at least they seemed to come true around him a lot, and their were multiple cases of these people dying after their wishes were granted.

Dean pulled out from their parking spot and took a turn onto the interstate; he looked over at Sam and tried to read his quizzical expression.

"What?" he asked finally

Sam looked up some what startled "Hmm? What?" Then it registered for him "Oh…its just, are we thinking a witch for this? Or pagan gods…or a demon? I mean we should have some theory going into this so we'll have a plan or something."

"Any of those I suppose, Demon is the most likely, a cross road probably. Who possessed some cull de sac living white color dad."

"But Demon deals usually give you 10 years, these guys are dying left and right but this guy just started up a year or two ago, from what I can tell."

"My deal only gave me a year Sammy… anything is possible, maybe Crowley is changing the rules around on us."

"Its certainly possible." Sam nodded, he was silent for a moment and then tentatively said "Did Crowley seem different last time we saw him to you?'

"How do you mean?"

"I don't know, he's been more careful lately maybe something is going on down stares that we should know about."

Dean shook his head back and forth, not saying 'No' but also not agreeing. It was also just another possibility.

They drove straight through the night, and into the morning, and then into the early afternoon. They'd listened to so much Van Halen on the ride over Sam could still hear the lyrics ringing in his ears.

He stepped out of the Car, ducking so as not to hit his head on the metal doorframe. His legs felt numb from sitting for so long, and his back cracked when he stood up.

"So this is the place huh?" Sam said his eyes scanning the simple looking white house.

"Yeah, what'd ya say we go have our selves a chat with Mr. Novak?" Dean said

Sam nodded.

"So are we cops or reporters or…"

Dean cut him off by putting a pair of dark shades on his face. Sam had to laugh he hadn't seen Dean wear sunglasses in a long time. Dean always said that sunglasses were a douche bag accessory.

"Customers." Dean smiled defiantly, and Sam felt a smile as he began to understand Dean's plan.

They walked up to the door, and rang the bell. A woman answered, her eyes drifted over to Dean and she said, "This way please," and he gestured into the house.

They found Jimmy in the front sitting room, with a copy of _The Fall of the Giants _on his lap. Jimmy was silent as he assessed Dean, and walked over to them.

"I can fix him," Jimmy said

"You can?" Sam asked playing the role of the tired and concerned friend who had spent too long looking for answers.

"I assume his ailment is his sight."

Sam nodded acknowledging the sunglasses on Dean's face and what Dean had cleverly planned them to imply.

Jimmy raised a hand, and pressed his fingers to Dean's forehead.

Though he was playing a blind man, Dean quickly noticed everything he could about the man, he had dark hair and light blue eyes, he was an inch or so shorter than Dean, and wore a black suit with a tan trench coat on over even though he was inside his home.

The man stepped back, sharply.

"You're no blind man." He sneered

"And you're not Jimmy Novak," Sam interrupted, slapping a pair of cuffs from his coat pocket onto the man's wrists. They were silver and shiny, but had demon warding carved into the metal, no way any demon could escape these.

Dean splashed some holy water onto the man's face from his flask. The man's face contorted like he was in pain, and he grunted unhappily, but there was no smoke or screaming like there should have been.

"No you're right, I'm not Jimmy." The dark haired man agreed.

He thrust down his hands, and right before Dean's eyes the cuffs slid off his wrists. That should have been impossible. Something about this guy was wrong, and way too dangerous.

The man looked up "I'm Castiel," He whispered and shadows fell a crossed his face as though each was hiding in every fold and feature of his unarguably striking completion. "I'm the bringer of darkness, and the heir to the throne of Hades. The prince of Hell."


End file.
